


For Lovers in a Rush

by chaosandcosmos



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosandcosmos/pseuds/chaosandcosmos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Or: three times Ryan kissed Michael and the one time Michael kissed him first)</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Lovers in a Rush

**Author's Note:**

> This is cliche as fuck but I had a lot of fun with this idea and have always wanted to do something with the "four times they ___ and one time they ___" format. Hope you enjoy.

001.  
Ryan didn’t drink often, in fact, he preferred not to. The only exceptions were special occasions – mostly ones like Christmas or New Year’s, sometimes even his birthday. But other than that, he would typically carry around water or diet coke as opposed to the standard beer that almost every Rooster Teeth employee chose instead. He had no real reason for it, no bad experience with alcohol that’d made him want to hold back. It was just a thing of his, he guessed. Something similar to Ray’s reasoning, although less restrictive.

Given this quirk, it was extremely unusual to see him buzzed, much less fucking tanked. So imagine Michael’s incredulity when he approached him, eyes going in and out of focus, speech slurred, body slightly wavering as if the room were about to fall out from under him. You know, the tell tale signs that he’d had way too much to drink. But it was his immediate reaction to laugh at how absurd the sight was because really, Ryan smashed??? He almost keeled over at just the idea.

The guys had taken him out for an evening for no real reason, and to say that that itself was a rare occurrence was an understatement. He couldn’t speak for the others but personally this was the first time Michael had hung out with Ryan after work. He was already in uncharted territory to begin with so it only made it odder when Ryan, drunk as all hell, randomly sidled up to him at the bar counter and attempted a “hey”.

However, what came out of Ryan’s mouth instead was the mixture of all the alcoholic concoctions Geoff had got him to toss back. Although he was preoccupied with laughing his fucking head off at what he just witnessed, Michael managed to guide the older man into the bathroom, where he proceeded to empty the rest of his undoings. Afterward, Michael helped him clean himself up, tears still in his eyes because this was so unlike Ryan that it made everything that much funnier.

He then helped Ryan find the table at which the guys were sat, the latter instantly plopping himself down and resting his head against Michael’s shoulder as Geoff and Gavin roared in amusement at his expense. Ryan tilted his neck so that his lips were pressed against Michael’s collar bone. “Thanks, Mich—” he managed before promptly passing out.

Suffice to say, Ryan didn’t come into work the next day, calling in sick (and sounding like absolute death, according to Jack). Michael did not miss the chance to relay the story to everyone who would listen.

002.  
As embarrassed as Ryan had been with the outing, Michael had been just as ashamed of himself during one particular Rage Quit. To describe the game he had been playing would be like raising the red flag to a bull. All that he could remember – all that made it past his repression – was that it had been an arcade game, what else? Fucking arcade games.

He’d gotten so angry that he’d leapt out of his chair and almost kicked his desk. There was a limit to recordings and this one had gone past its expiration. He stopped capturing when he thought the video was about finished and was still pissed off. So, in his state of mind, he went back onto the game. Honestly, he had no idea what he was trying to accomplish at the time, his defense was that his rationale was severely poor when all the blood was rushing to his head.

So he played through it again. And, as expected, it infuriated him even more. 

To the point where he forcefully drove his fist into the wall and didn’t feel a thing for ten seconds. 

When those ten seconds were up, he felt the pain like nothing else and his anger was quickly replaced with sheer frustration. As he berated himself for pulling such a dumbass move, the door to the AH office opened. Someone must have heard the impact.

Gripping his fist, he looked up and found concerned blue eyes. Ryan was in front of him at once, inspecting the damage. “What did you do?!” he demanded. 

Michael merely shook his head. “Hurts,” he muttered. And Ryan sighed, worry very apparent. “Okay,” he nodded, “let’s get this dealt with.”

They had gone to the kitchen, excusing the concerns of fellow employees. Ryan retrieved the first aid kit they kept in the foyer and gently applied Neosporin to Michael’s bloody knuckles. 

While he bandaged his hand, Ryan glanced at the Jersey native. “Speaking as somebody with no medical training whatsoever, your wrist doesn’t seem to be sprained and the joints don’t look like they’re dislocated. You’re lucky. The wall...not so much, it appears you won that round.”

Michael frowned. “Fuck you, lightweight.”

Ryan smirked. “Glad you’re feeling okay, Jones.” 

He bent down and grazed the bandages with his mouth, making an exaggerated noise. “All better!”

003\.   
After his two and a half years of working at the company, Michael quickly learned that office parties were Rooster Teeth’s kind of thing. He also knew that they were infinitely better than any of the ones standard workplaces could throw. (They had to be, in his opinion. What would become of their reputation if all they did was stand around a water-cooler?) 

Their Christmas parties were particularly delightful because before he went home to Jersey to spend the actual Christmas day with his family, he could enjoy a few festive moments with his co-workers and friends first.

He was having a conversation with Miles about what they were going to gift Kerry when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He craned his neck to see the one and only Ryan Haywood standing behind him, face cheerful. “What’s up, man?” he greeted. 

Miles beamed. “Glad you could make it! We hardly ever see you at these things. Want something to drink?”

Ryan smiled appreciatively. “Sure, thanks.”

“Okay! I’ll be right back guys.”

“No alcohol,” Michael chimed in, completely smug. “Don’t want a repeat of last year.”

Despite himself, Ryan chuckled at that. Michael was the only one who ever brought up that night, so he didn’t really mind. He had a lot of counter material, anyway.

“It’s nice to see you here for once,” the brunet continued. “Even though you’re, like, almost two fucking hours late.”

The older Achievement Hunter had been about to make a remark about beauty taking time before he spotted something hanging none too subtly above them. Before the other noticed it himself, Ryan briskly pointed it out first, grinning. “Well...”

Michael looked up and glared the diabolical mistletoe. “God, I hate—”

Before he was able to finish, Ryan leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Michael.”

+001.  
He had been thinking of Ryan since the party – more specifically, of what transpired beneath the mistletoe. Ryan had left to go converse with Burnie before he could get a word in. He wanted to know what that kiss had been. What any of his kisses had been. It was confusing, to say the least. 

Michael had clearly written off his actions before, what with the heavy intoxication and simple jokes, but that one moment in particular felt so...intimate. Like it wasn’t just tradition, like Ryan was deliberately finding ways to drive him mad. 

How? By being close but not close enough. 

During the lapse of time between each kiss, Michael’s feelings for Ryan had grown a little more and more every time, and if his thoughts were true, so had Ryan’s for him. Despite how oblivious he had been in the beginning, he was aware now that this is what he was trying to say without actually saying it. 

That night, as a majority of Rooster Teeth employees gathered around Barb’s television to watch the ball drop in Times Square, Michael sought out Ryan. There was about one minute or less left of 2013 and he wanted to make it count.

The older man was relaxed coolly against the wall, plastic chute of champagne in hand. He looked noticeably unfazed by the celebration but it didn’t deter Michael. He grabbed the taller by the hand and by way of explanation said, “shut up for a minute.”

Vaguely, in the background, the countdown could be heard. Neither one of them could be bothered by the loudness of the crowd nor by the attention of people around them. Instead, they kept their focus on each other. 

5...

Ryan obliged his command, though his eyebrows depicted his confusion.

4...

“You know what they say about tonight? Kiss someone at twelve and they’re more likely to be with you during the New Year?”

3...

“Yeah, well...”

2...

“Going by that, this should mean something.”

1...  
Michael stood his absolute tallest and brought Ryan downward, lips finally meeting lips. A chorus of cheers and noisemakers erupted, little splashes of confetti even littered the room. Couples all around could be seen embracing as the clock struck midnight and the sound of fireworks emanated from the TV and possibly from outside as well. 

These were the sights and sounds of happiness and hope, but for the most part they were the surroundings of Michael’s proclaimed “motherfucking parade of clichés.”

When they ultimately pulled apart, they were both grinning devilishly.

Ryan couldn’t help but giggle as Michael held onto him. “You know, you could’ve just asked me out.”

“I just did. And it was fucking spectacular.”


End file.
